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Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found his way back through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life.

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Exposing Anxiety

I see you
anxiously waiting to feed my thoughts with a crippling tongue. Separating my
focus to my stresses, hindering my understanding to be me. I feel you gripping
my throat with sharp hands, holding firm so I may not breath. Leaving me lost
of words, making a fool to a peering eyes, entertained I see, by the building
of my demise. I taste you on my lips, on my tongue, tingling like the injection
of a needle. Numbing my capacity to pronounce my thoughts, my ideas, my dreams.

I see you
crawling defenseless from the abyss of disease. Falling at my feet, fooling me
as if you are broken and need of home. Only to burden my shoulders and steal
the fruits of my labor and you speak, as if you will never be gone. And I see
you laugh with thrill as you watch my mangled thoughts keep me locked. Pulling
each from the other like tangled twine. Only to find that you have tied knots
to each side. I see you chattering among evil swine. Conspiring to design, to
leave me broken long before you say goodbye. You found the perfect home, at
least till I find a reason to fly.

I feel you
linger with hot breath, shadowing me like flies to rot. Licking at my existence
of happiness, enjoyment with each passing moment. And like sickness, it is you
I caught. Now ill, I am steadily fraught. Wondering, as sweat billows my
brow, if I will ever be me, ever be free of my wretched being. I feel you cut
my heart, splitting me of hope, faith, and love. Never to listen to what is
above. Leaving me only to dangers of pity, ache, and heavy thoughts.
Thoughts that drown me from myself, from those around me. Thoughts that leave
me scratching the walls of my mind, like a mad man lost to copious amounts of
hell. Scratching till the bleeding my thoughts become the escape of my
presence. What is left for you to swell, can can't you tell? My soul is dried
like an abandoned well. Nothing left to quench my thirst, nor for the people
who seek my help.

When will
you let me be, when will you let me sleep?

I taste
you in my thinking as eyes are shut, as dreams become not of dreams, but of
nightmares, of hell. Dreams that soil with darkness, leaving me to a nervous
spell. Dreams that scream till my lips are dry from sweat I secrete that you
savor oh so well from the other side of my conscious cell. As demons swallow my
key that would set me free, acting noble they do, as if they caught me in a
coup, but they smile with glee and taste me as I bleed. They stand with red
ties and bloody suits, waiting for me to sell, waiting for me to never tell. To
open my soul and let them compel. To hand it over it like flesh to a moral-less
motel, so I may descend their gnarled stairwell. I taste you upon my dry
tongue as I stand looking upon others, losing my taste for confidence, my taste
for my own self. You have smothered my cravings for life, now I hide beneath
the trembling of my own flesh. Never to be still and never to be relaxed, tense
from the moment I wake, to the moment I sleep.

I look
upon my reflection and what do I see? I see you, I see anxiety twisting my
image beyond all degree. I see anxiety laughing in the pool of my suffering.
Drinking to my primitive chaos, drinking, to my dull thoughts. It smiles with
crooked teeth and fiery skin as I lay inside my head with treason. Piercing
with raw disorder all things that were me. Things that designed my smiles and
curated my laughter. Now tedious and disruptive am I, I fall to the purgatory
of self, consuming the dead of anxiety and living below the shadows.

My eyes,
sunken by insomnia and my soul, driven mad by anxiety.

Notes:

(The
reading above are my thoughts and feelings on my anxiety that once crippled my
very happiness to the confines of my sheets. To the point where my reality was
diminished by the dwelling of other’s words, my own false mental creations, and
my past. Anxiety, fear, and depression are all family. A family many of us have
to deal with in life. And I believe the only way to defeat any of them, is to
pull them from their shadows and display them for your world to see. To cut the
head from the snake and let it bleed in front of the others. The mental
struggles we engage in, many times are created through lies we tell ourselves.
Lies we believe from lack of self-love. Lack of self-care and the courage to
face them. Below are words I use to describe how anxiety was in my life. I
still deal with it from time to time. But it no longer does it dictate my view
of the world or myself. Writing my thoughts down of my struggles has
significantly helped me. So hopefully reading my pain will help you discover
your ability to get through your pain and write it down.)

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